


Believe In The Green Light

by livsinpjs



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Autistic Spencer Reid, BAMF Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Cause I say so, Drugs, Gen, Hurt Spencer Reid, Kidnapped Spencer Reid, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spencer Reid Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, every Spencer Reid is autistic Spencer Reid, idk - Freeform, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livsinpjs/pseuds/livsinpjs
Summary: “There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” - F. Scott. FitzgeraldThe BAU team is called into Pasadena, California after the deaths of three lead to an investigation revolving around Gatsby, a new drug that hit the market at a dead sprint. When a raid on a house reveals the creator of the drug, a young man no one even knew was missing, Jason Gideon and co. find themselves involved in a case bigger than they originally thought.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon & Spencer Reid, No Romantic Relationship(s), Penelope Garcia & Derek Morgan
Comments: 44
Kudos: 376





	1. the pursued

**Author's Note:**

> i've gone through and made some minor edits to the grammar

It was getting dark; the sun creeping below the horizon slowly, like if it moved slow enough, no one would notice its disappearance. Founders Park had been left barren, years ago. After the murder of a young family, the neighborhood had unanimously agreed to leave the children's park to the elements. The grass was overgrown and weeds were poking through the small play structures, nature slowly reclaiming what was originally hers. Yet, in the here and now, Founders Park still had its fair share of visitors. Partying teenagers seeking a place to escape; to sit with their peers and drink or smoke to their heart’s content, without the fear of reprimanding or punishment from their parents. Currently, while dusk turned to night, three figures sat around each other, drinking, and laughing. The eldest of the three passed a blunt around their group and they all eagerly took hits, letting their exhales pass through the air, creating a cloud muck above them. 

The oldest of the group said something and they all broke out into a fit of laughter, not noticing the black Lincoln LS pull up to the side of the road just in front of the park. Another of the boys added onto the previous joke and their laughter continued, filtering through the fog of smoke and right into the ears of a man exiting his vehicle and slowly approaching, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. 

The lone man slowly closed in on the group; by the time one of them noticed he was only a couple of feet away. His fingers gripped an object in his front pocket. The oldest of the group, a man looking to be in his early twenties passed the blunt off to one of his younger companions and casually stood up, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He met the stranger in the middle, attempting to put up an intimidating aura, raising his chin and looking down at him. 

“Ya need something pal?” He asked, letting an air of annoyance flow through his tone, projecting the fact that he was irritated with the man and trying to subtly hint towards the stranger's wanted departure. 

The man in question grit his teeth. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, bouncing from foot to foot like he didn’t know how to voice his thoughts aloud. The young man was getting more and more impatient by the second. “Spit it out already!” He demanded after a few moments.

The stranger grit his teeth once more; a look of finality settled into his face; then pure, unadulterated, rage.

Before the boy could identify the new emotion contorting the man's face, two shots rang out. Then he was on his back staring at the sky. He noticed that he could barely make out the stars through the clouds and, for a moment, mourned their absence from his vision. After that though, he registered the pain. He could only think of one word. Excruciating. Then the ringing in his ears morphed into something else. Yelling; a chorus of “oh my god” and “what the fuck man?!” ringing through the night air. He looked around, trying to locate the source and his eyes landed on a terrible sight. 

The man had moved closer to the other two boys, gun pointed at the youngest. He said something the injured man couldn’t make out, and then another shot rattled in his head. He saw the youngest boy crumple in on himself and the other boy lunge to his side, gripping onto his companion, trying to keep the life from seeping out of him. He was crying and saying something but the young man couldn't hear him over the roar in his ears. He seemed to be pleading with the shooter, shaking his head feverishly and cradling the younger boy in his arms. The stranger appeared to become more enraged by this and shot the injured and barely conscious boy again, killing him. 

The dead boy's companion was screaming now. A long note that just continued and continued. It ripped at his throat and it seemed like it would never waver. A constant sound that reverberated throughout the park.

Another shot. 

Then two more.

The stranger took heaving breaths, shaking with rage. The kind that you could suppress but never truly vanquish. Then he began to walk back to his car. 

The young man, still on the ground laid there for a moment in shock. He had been shot and his friends had just been killed. He doesn’t know what compels him, maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was sheer stupidity, but he rolled onto his stomach, not even registering the pain as the adrenaline kicked in and his body went into shock and he opened his mouth. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he never had to figure it out; because the man had turned to view his work one last time before fleeing the scene and his eyes fell onto his first victim who was, obviously, still very much alive. Before any thought could go through the young man’s head, three more shots rang out into the air. 

The stranger entered his car and sped off into the night, leaving three more corpses to the history of Founders Park.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Jason Gideon was a lot of things. Impatient wasn’t one of them. Yet he found himself continually refreshing his computer, watching and waiting for an email he wasn’t sure was even coming anymore. After refreshing once more and not getting the results he had hoped for, he quickly closed out of his computer and turned to the pile of paperwork he had been putting off. 

Just as he was adjusting his reading glasses, media liaison Jennifer Jareau knocked quietly at his open door. 

“We have a case,” she said softly, raising the files in her hand as an indication.

Saved by the bell. 

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

“Early this morning, the bodies of 17-year-old Michael Nook and his 19-year-old brother Steven Nook, along with 21-year-old James McCarthy were discovered in a park in Pasadena, California.” Jennifer pressed a button on her remote and the pictures of Michael and Steven Nook appeared on screen, then the mugshot of James McCarthy popped up beside them. “They were found by the Rameriez family, all shot to death.” 

SSAs Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, and Jason Gideon sat at the round table, each flipping through their copy of the case file while they listened to JJ as she continued.

“It appears that James was the first shot, but his time of death was shortly after the Nook brothers. Michael was shot twice, Steven three times, and James five.” 

“It looks like the Unsub shot McCarthy first, assumed he was dead and went to kill the other two. Later he found him still alive and finished the job.” Morgan added his observation. 

“There is definite overkill here,” Gideon supplied. “The first shot to Steven killed him instantly yet he shot him two more times. James would have died of blood loss before anyone even noticed he was injured, yet the Unsub shot him an additional three times in the head.” 

“Four years ago, the park where the bodies were discovered, Founders Park, was the scene of a mugging gone wrong. Gillian Murphy shot and killed Kayla and Laurence Arnold, along with their four-year-old daughter Sadie, after Laurence refused to give up their family belongings. Locals are afraid the two might be connected and have insisted that the FBI become involved for the safety of their children.

“The boys were said to have been frequenting the park for years, known to drink and smoke and occasionally do the harder stuff.”

“There is no indication that the two crimes are connected. Murphy has been incarcerated since his arrest four years ago, and there are no indications that the Arnolds knew either the Nooks or James McCarthy. Plus nothing appears to have been stolen.” Hotchner pointed out. 

“Yes, but it may be connected to other cases in Pasadena these past 6 weeks.” JJ continued, pressing more buttons on her remote. “There have been 24 deaths and multiple raids all connected to a new drug that has appeared in the area. They call it Gatsby. It’s known to create a psychedelic dissociation as well as mix the euphoria of heroin, and the hallucinations of LSD.

“CSI found copious amounts of Gatsby on each of the victims' person.” 

“Alright,” Hotchner closed his case file, “This looks like it may be more than what it originally appears.

“Wheels up in thirty.”


	2. the pursuing

It was cold. It was always cold though, so that was no surprise. His arms ached in their position raised above his head. His wrists were rubbed raw from his attempts at freedom from his shackles he had long since abandoned, his forearms crusted with old blood. If he closed his eyes, he could picture he was in a dungeon from one of the books his mother had read to him as a child. But the not so pleasant fantasy fell away every time his eyes settled on the lab equipment strewn throughout his concrete prison. 

He had long since figured out Their intentions with him. He was a student at CalTech with a doctorate in chemistry already tucked under his belt among other degrees. He had no family to look for him and he was an easy target when it came to physically apprehending victims, so there was no use wallowing and questioning ‘why me?’ He knew why. They wanted drugs. More specifically, they wanted _him_ to make drugs. Obviously, he knew right away when he awoke and his eyes first landed on the lab equipment 6 weeks 2 days and 14 hours ago. That didn’t mean he was eager to cooperate. 

The first time he refused, They denied him food and water. After a couple days, he relented. Desperate to survive, he caved and created the first batch of Gatsby. After that, every time he refused, two big and burly men came down into his prison to beat him within an inch of his life, leaving him bruised and bleeding with a “We’ll let you rethink your answer.” A few more days with no food and water and he would relent yet again. After going through that cycle a few times, he stopped refusing. He felt sick with himself for giving in so easily. He wanted to become an FBI agent, yet here he was, aiding Them. 

He wondered, dejectedly, what the Academy thought when he didn’t show up. Probably that he had chickened out. He was sure he wasn’t the first person to enroll and then never show. He thought about Agent Gideon. He and Agent Gideon had become close in a fairly brief time. He had encouraged him and his ambitions. What did he think about him now? Was he worried? Disappointed? If only he knew where he was...

He shifted his position on the cold, hard floor trying to sit comfortably even though he knew it was useless. His chains clinked against the wall, his head throbbed and spun along with the little movement that he made. He knew he was in a dangerous position. Being this uncoordinated and forced to make drugs without proper care spelled loads of trouble. Mostly for himself.

One wrong move and he could kill himself in the process. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. On several occasions the dark thoughts he naively assumed he had gotten rid of long ago would pop up again while he was working. He never let himself dwell on them for long though, he would push the thoughts to the back of his mind like he used to and think of his mother. Who would be there for her if he was gone? (Though he couldn’t be of much help to her from where he was currently.) He thought of the stories he and his mother would read together, and then his mind would helpfully wander through the many things his eidetic memory stored for him. Before he knew it They would thrust a cup of water and food at him, (which he would devour quickly and greedily) and he would be roughly escorted back to the wall and chained up yet again. They would leave him in the cold while they did who knows what with the monster he created. 

Another thing to add to the ever growing list of awfulness that was his current circumstance, would be the fact that ever since he had been brought here, he had been on the verge of a meltdown. It’s not easy to calm yourself when you’re being held against your will, or stim when you’re chained to a wall. Everything was either too much or too little. He could do nothing to ease the ache in his chest. Even the stimming he _could_ do was quickly shut down by Them. The frantic tapping of his foot or the insistent keen that would every once in a while escape his lips was deemed annoying by Them. He found himself forcing everything down; It was exhausting. He was surprised that he had been able to keep masking for so long.

In his haze, though, he had been hit with an idea so abruptly that he inhaled and choked on his own saliva. Yet once he was finished hacking and had caught his breath, a smile had been drawn to his face. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have quickly deduced that the idea was a stupid one. So many things could go wrong, or innocent people could get hurt, and really, if it did work, it wouldn’t help him in the slightest. But all he was focused on was the fact that _he_ was in control of making the drug, and _he_ was the only one there to make it for Them. 

It was during this time, when he was rethinking what he had done, that They walked in.

He referred to them as Them because, well, he knew absolutely nothing about them. Well, that wasn’t true. He knew Maria from his philosophy class. He didn’t know if she was the reason he was here or if it was just a coincidence that her family was a part of some kind of drug cartel. But he also didn’t know Maria that well. The only thing he knew was that she went to the same school as him and they shared a class together. So he just found himself referring to them as, well, Them. 

Two men, Maria’s father and brother, (he presumed by the similarities in their features) and Maria entered the room. The father gave him a disappointed look and for a brief moment, he felt ashamed of himself for disappointing the man. He quickly shoved the feeling off though. The brother looked like he wanted to rip his throat out, and he shrunk in on himself a bit at the glare he received. Maria’s face was expressionless.

“Ya got guts, I’ll grant you that much.” The father spoke to him as if reprimanding a child, instead of a captive. “Poisonin’ the latest batch of Gatsby like that.” He shook his head. “What I don’t get is how you thought doin’ so would help. You have no idea what we’re doin’ with it, or if we’re takin’ it ourselves. Even still, if we had taken it and had died, how would you escape? You would more quickly die of dehydration than be found by the athourites. And what would you accomplish by killin’ our clientele, eh? Other than puttin’ an even bigger target on your back for my men to aim at as they teach you once again, what happens when you defy us. Luckily for us, we have, erhm.. drug testers, if you will, who make sure the batch is clean before sending it out. Unluckily for you, my son’s friend happened to be testing the drug this time and has, unfortunately, passed away.” 

The brother seemed to grow even angrier at the mention of his friend and stepped forward menacingly. The only thing keeping him from carrying out his wishes was Maria, holding his arm. 

“So,” The father bent down to get on his level. “Would you care to explain to me just what exactly you thought you were goin’ to accomplish?” 

He was terrified. He mentally cursed himself for making such an error in judgment. He registered, vaguely, that he had actually killed one of them. He couldn’t identify the feeling that engulfed him. The only thing on his mind at the time had been revenge. How stupid did he have to be to go through with something so idiotic? His eyes immediately snapped to the side, avoiding the man’s powerful gaze. He gulped painfully. The father sighed after a moment of silence, the only thing he could think of as his head spun was that the man’s breath smelled horrible; garlic and tobacco. 

“Very well” The man stood, and his knees gave audible pops, “Go ahead and bring ‘em in.” The brother quickly exited the room and was soon being accompanied by two familiar men. They looked at him a little too eagerly as Maria and her father went for the door. “Make sure you keep him alive, we still need him after all.” 

With that, Spencer Reid was left alone with three men who had only one thing on their minds. To cause him unimaginable pain.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

The team was gathered together on the jet; even Penelope Garcia was on their video feed, streaming from Quantico, Virginia. The technical analyst and the rest of their team had just finished going through their files one last time together before their Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner gave them their assignments.

“All right, once we land, Gideon and Morgan, you go to the crime scene and see if they’ve turned up any new information, then meet up with the M.E. Garcia, look into McCarthy’s background and criminal record, see if our Unsub could be someone he has bad blood with, and JJ, you’re with me at the precinct. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us, so go ahead and get comfortable.”

The team split off from one another, Garcia logging out and the rest going to separate areas of the jet. 

Gideon sat alone, gazing out the window before pulling out his PDA. No recent emails. He returned the device to his pocket and shut his eyes, wanting to relax as much as possible before this case inevitably took up all of their time.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Agents Gideon and Morgan arrived at the crime scene at around 5:00 p.m. There, they were greeted by local LEOs; Gideon went straight to analyzing the scene, leaving Derek to speak with them. 

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and, that over there,” He pauses, indicating to the older man, “Is SSA Jason Gideon.” 

“Detective Sanders, glad you could make it out here.” The men shook hands before Sanders continued. “My men and I received the call early this morning ‘round 7:00 a.m. CSI should be finished processing the crime scene by tomorrow.” Derek nodded, turning to see Gideon talk absently to an agent as his eyes expertly scanned the abandoned playground. 

“What happened with the mugging four years ago? It says that they caught the guy, Gillian Murphy, and he’s still serving time."

“Well, the Arnold’s were visitin’ the park after Mr. Arnold had gotten off of work, Murphy attempted to mug the family and, after not getting the reaction he wanted, shot and killed them. He fled the scene and was found shortly after trying to sell the victims’ belongings at a local pawn shop.” 

“What makes you think the two crimes are related?” 

“Honestly, I don’t see any connection, but the mayor’s sister lives ‘round here and he insisted that we bring in the FBI ‘cause the crimes were both committed at this here park.”

Morgan nodded, shifting his stance to look over the detective’s shoulder to see that Gideon had moved to talk with CSI agents. “All right, let us know if you uncover any connections.” 

Gideon had begun to walk back the way they had come, so Morgan matched his stride beside him as they moved towards their FBI sanctioned SUV. 

“Find out anything new?” Morgan asked the older man as they stepped up to the car, Morgan taking the driver’s seat with Gideon in the passenger seat.

Gideon shook his head, “CSI found nothing out of the ordinary, a few beer cans and marijuana by the play structure. Looks like the victims were confronted by our Unsub. McCarthy met the Unsub a few feet away, leaving the Nooks next to the structure. What about you?”

“Nothing that points in the direction of these cases being linked. Sounds to me like it was more of an excuse to get us down here in the first place.” Morgan spoke dryly as he drove toward the Coronors’ office.

“Well, we’re here now, no use in gripping about it.” Gideon said wisely. Derek watched Gideon pull out his PDA, look at it, and then put it away, from the corner of his eye. 

“You expecting something?”

“..Hmm? Ah.. no I was just checking my email..” Gideon said vaguely as he watched the road in front of him as they made their way to the Coroner's Office.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

At the precinct, Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner sat in front of his third possible witness since he had arrived at the precinct with JJ.

While JJ set up the room Pasadena P.D. had indicated to her, (setting up their evidence board and attempting to start a preliminary profile) Aaron got to work on interviewing people who had been in contact with Gatsby. The witness in front of him, Abigail Cooper, a disgruntled teenager with blonde hair and an obvious distaste for law enforcement, leaned back in her chair, arms across her chest and an attempt at an intimidating glare strewn across her face. 

Aaron quickly profiled the young girl. A look of distrust in her eyes and a defensive posture hidden by an attempt at nonchalance. A negative past with law enforcement, or men, or both. Her eyes glanced quickly over to the window and she had sat herself closest to the door. Aaron had to show this girl that he meant her no harm and that she would not be punished anymore than the charges she faced for possession of drugs and alcohol underage. 

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” He began in a calm voice, looking her in the eye.

“FBI? Why’s the FBI here? I didn’t do anything that serious!” Abigail spoke incredulously, sitting up slightly with a questioning look on her face.

“I am here to ask you a few questions. Nothing more.” Aaron assured her, “Last night, there was a murder. Three men were killed and it seems that the crime may have a connection to a drug. A drug that you were found in possession of. Gatsby.”

“So? I didn’t kill nobody! Just because I had some with me doesn’t mean I’m a killer.” She tightened her crossed arms, which had been slowly falling due to the shock of being in the presence of an agent of the FBI. 

“I never said you were.” Aaron said placating, “I am here because you may be able to help us find the person who _did_ kill them.” He watched her shoulders relax slightly at that, her eyes softening slightly. 

“Uh.. well.. all right..” She sat up, letting her arms fall to her sides. “What do you want to know?”

“I need to know any information you have on the person who sold Gatsby to you. A name, a phone number, an address that you met at, anything could be of help.”

A look of disappointment flashed across Abigail’s face. “I don’t know. No one does, really. People say that _they_ find _you._ I was.. Uh.. drinking with some friends.. when he came up to us. Told us about this cool new drug. We’d heard about it around school and thought ‘why not’ Ya know? We paid him and he left and that was it.” 

Aaron frowned but didn’t voice his disappointment. “Where was this?” 

“Oh! Uh.. we were behind the Denny’s downtown, lots of people go there to dick around.”

Aaron nodded at her. “Thank you for your time.” He got up and went to leave the room to inform JJ when Abigail spoke up. 

“Agent Hotchner?” Aaron turned around to face her, giving her his attention once more. “I.. um.. I hope you get the guy..” She said hesitantly. 

“You were a big help Abigail.” He said, then he left to find JJ.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Hotchner had just finished filling Jennifer in when the phone on the table in their conference room went off.

“It’s Garcia. Hotchner, you’ve got me and JJ. What do you have?”

“Hello my pretties! All right, so, James McCarthy, 21, single and lives alone. He was arrested and sent to a juvenile detention center when he was 16 for shoplifting and possession of drugs and alcohol.” Garcia reported.

“Did he have any grievances with any of the other kids?” JJ asked, looking at the evidence board.

“No, actually he was very well behaved. He didn’t get into any trouble and it looks like he was even helpful when others were upset or angry. The workers there were really proud with the progress he made.”

“All right, thanks Garcia.” Hotch said with his arms crossed, looking down at the receiver. 

“Of course! Garcia Out!” The line cut out. 

A few minutes later, Gideon and Morgan walked in from the Coroners’ Office looking glum. 

“Looks like all our victims had ingested Gatsby in the last 24 hours.” Gideon began, “Other than that, nothing new. All the victims died from their gunshot wounds and then were shot again post-mortem, some more than once.”

Morgan continued. “Also, there doesn’t look to be any correlation to these murders and the murders from four years ago.”

JJ sighed, still looking over the board. “It looks like we’ve got less to work with than we started with.” 

“But it seems that this drug, Gatsby, is in the center of it.” Morgan said. “Multiple Gatsby related deaths, and now three murders involving the drug? Doesn’t sound like much of a coincidence to me.”

“It seems that the people dealing these drugs go out of their way to find people to sell it to, instead of having people go to them.” Hotch informed the rest of the team on his interview with Abigail Cooper. 

“All right, so how do we find them?” JJ asked. 

The team sat in thought for a moment. Hotch looked at JJ and she could see the idea pop into his head.

“I know exactly how.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

He was enraged. 

He stood by the corner store, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. His foot tapping erratically. Her funeral was tomorrow. Her _funeral_. He stood and he tapped his foot. And he waited. And he waited..

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

That night, a man walked up to another, jittery man. He proposed something to him and beckoned him into the alley next to where they were standing. 

Later, 10 shots rang out loud into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank you for the comments and kudos! this chapter has been beta read by my best friend who also happens to be an english tutor soooo
> 
> anyway thank you for reading and i'll see you next chapter :)


	3. the busy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a neurodivergent creator, writing a neurodivergent character is a whole other world of writing

Spencer sat as still as possible, trying not to aggravate his injuries. He tried to clear his mind, which was running a mile a minute. He needed to take stock of his injuries. That was something he could do. That was something within his control. He closed his eyes and let himself focus on the pain that was his entire world. Starting from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He obviously had a concussion. He didn’t know how severe. He couldn’t remember how many blows he sustained, but the throbbing behind his eyes and the nausea was enough to confirm it. Moving downwards to his throat, which was most likely bruised from the times They would strangle him. Not enough to make him pass out or anything, just enough to slam his head against the concrete wall, which didn’t help the concussion.

Then to his face, bruised and bloody. Nose was probably broken, and cuts from the rings his attackers wore as they pummeled him into oblivion. His mind wandered then, wondering what could have happened to those men that made them feel the need to beat him senseless. Or maybe they were just complete sadists? Trying to use his profiling skills in this condition was almost impossible. Almost. But he was getting distracted. Injuries. Right. 

Farther down to his ribs, and shit did he not want to think about them. But it was all he could do at this point. He tried to focus but he could feel his mind wandering, self loathing and crippling hopelessness filling his stomach and- No. It will be okay. He just had to not think about it. But not thinking is something he just doesn’t do. So thinking about something else is his only choice, and- Damn it Reid, focus. Ribs right. Definitely bruised if not broken, obvious by the way his chest moved and felt each time he took a breath. How many, he couldn’t tell. Couldn’t pinpoint the places in most pain. All right, lower. His stomach was probably bruised, but he couldn’t see through his tattered, bloody shirt.

Then to his legs, probably bruised. His ankle was most definitely broken. If the way his foot was pointing wasn’t enough of an indicator, the fire coursing through his veins sure was. That was the last of his injuries that he could pinpoint. Everything else was just pain. 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to release his agitation by throwing a huge tantrum like a child or have a breakdown like an emotional teenager. He couldn’t, of course, but even if he could he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give Them the satisfaction of seeing him break. It was just so hard to hold himself together. The only thing stopping a full meltdown was his situation. He knew that if he did, he could die. They would kill him if he acted out. They told him so. So he just had to sit, the most of the pain being caused by the buzzing under his skin. He just had to sit and wait. 

But wait for what?

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

The team walked into the precinct early the next morning. Quickly they began working on the profile. 

“The overkill suggests an emotional motive. Maybe he’s a kid being bullied at school. He kills his aggressors to take revenge.” Morgan said as he sat at their table, looking at a specific photo of the deceased Michael Nook.

Gideon shook his head. “These killings have a kind of... maturity to them. If the Unsub was a highschool student, there would be a lot more overkill and a messier crime scene. He would also have most likely stolen the items on the victims, especially the drugs.”

“So who is this guy?” Morgan wonders aloud. JJ walks in with coffee and they continue to work.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

After a while of note taking and slow progression, Detective Sanders came into their conference room with a grave look. 

“They’ve found another body. Killed last night by the looks of it. Witnesses recall multiple gunshots.”

Hotchner and Morgan stood up at the same time. They nodded to each other and looked towards Gideon.

“I think I’ll stay here and update victimology.” Gideon said, turning to the board once more.

“All right Morgan, let’s head out.” Hotchner spoke and they left Gideon alone to stew in his thoughts. 

What is it about the victims that get them killed? 

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

CSI swarmed the alleyway between Marceline’s Flower shop and Bubblegum Tattoo Parlor, crime scene tape and markers seemingly strewn about randomly. 

Morgan and Hotchner weaved in and out of people’s way, flashing their credentials when necessary. They were finally able to squeeze into the eye of the storm, crime scene techs taking pictures and doing all sorts of tests. Detective Sanders finished speaking with a technician and approached the agents. Morgan already crouched, examining the dead man. 

  
“Chris Alexander, 28. He had copious amounts of Gatsby on him, as well has hundreds of dollars in cash.” Sanders said as he looked down at the deceased.

“He must be one of the Gatsby dealers, he may have connections to the manufacturers. Morgan, call Garcia and have her go through every inch of data on this man’s phone. I want anything to do with Gatsby analyzed, see if we can find where these manufacturers are, they may be his next target.” Hotch ordered as he pulled out his phone as well, pressing a speed dial and turning to take his call in some semblance of privacy.

Morgan stood and did the same, pressing one of his first speed dials.

“You’ve reached the mistress of all knowledge. Speak mortal, and have your questions answered.” Penelope spoke into her head piece.

“Hey baby girl, I need a complete search through a victim’s phone” He motioned at a CSI tech and they handed over the phone. “Name’s Chris Alexander.” He pulled up the phone number and read it off. “Filter anything having to do with Gatsby or drugs, also anything to do with the book The Great Gatsby, they may have some sort of code they use.”

“Alright, give me a bit to comb and I’ll get back to you hot stuff.” 

“Thanks sugar.” He smiled into the phone as he hung up. What a woman. He caught up with Hotchner and they finished up at the crime scene before heading back to the police precinct.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~ 

When they arrived, Gideon was adding information to their board, fresh pictures of Chris Alexander and the crime scene already up. 

“He’s growing more agitated. More angry. The amount of overkill in this victim is equal to the distributed amount amongst the Nook’s and McCarthy.” Gideon spoke, not turning to see the two agents entering the conference room. With JJ speaking to the press about another shooting, it was just the three of them.

“Yet the amount of victims has decreased. He killed three in the beginning, why kill only one this time around?” Hotch mused, stepping up to the board next to Gideon. 

“Maybe he’s killing these people for a specific reason. All four victims had Gatsby on them. Maybe this guy just has a vendetta against the stuff, or maybe someone he knows is using and he wants to get rid of it.” Morgan sat at the table, opening the file and looking through it for the umpteenth time. 

“Whoever he is, he’s getting angrier.” Gideon said.

Derek’s phone rang then, he quickly put Penelope on speaker. “What have you got for me baby girl?”

“Okay, so this guy is not sneaky at all. He blatantly speaks about Gatsby without hesitation, ya know if I were a super secret drug dealer I would use a bunch of code names, especially common words so no one would suspect anything, like grocery shopping, but not this guy is all like ‘Hey I’m selling Gatsby here and here so don’t be goin’ around there’ Like come on! He-”

“Baby girl, you’re getting off topic, what have you got?”

“Right! Well anyway he talks to this one guy a lot, Nick, who looks to me like an OG dealer. He’s kind of mentoring this guy, telling him where to go and where not to go. Anyway, I was able to find a recent message from them saying where they’re gonna be selling throughout the week. This week.”

Hotch spoke up then, “That’s great Garcia, send us an address and we’ll get back to you soon.’’ Then he hurried out of the room. Morgan and Gideon gave each other questioning looks, but neither of them knew what had gotten into their supervisor. 

“All right baby girl, thank you, well get back with you later.” With that, he hung up and he and Gideon left the conference room to find their boss.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

She was shaking. Her frizzy blonde hair in a ponytail and her arms wrapped around her as if she was cold in the humid, California air. She looked around feverishly until she spotted him. He was scoping out the crowd just like her, but he was more calm and collected. She looked like she would lash out any second. She quickly moved towards the man, almost desperately.

“You have some, right? The- the stuff? You know? I can tell, you look like the other guys who gave it to me. Please tell me you have some.” She was almost pleading with the man. He seemed amused at her desperate cries.

“I might have the stuff you’re looking for..” He glanced towards a nearby alleyway and began walking towards it.

She quickly caught up to him, falling into step beside him as they entered the alley. “Please, I’ll give you anything.”

He looked her up and down. “Anything?”

“First the stuff.” She almost pleaded. He took out a small, white vial, showing it off. 

“How do I know you won’t run with it the second you get your hand on it?”

“B-Because…” she stuttered, reaching behind her. 

She drew her gun and pointed it at Nicholas Armstrong. “You’re under arrest. FBI Special agent Jennifer Jareau.” After that, police and FBI agents swarmed the alley, quickly confiscating the drug and cuffing the perpetrator. 

“Good work JJ.” Morgan approached her after Nick was carted away. 

“It was Hotch’s idea. He looked at Abigail Cooper and thought, with some acting and an outfit change, I could fit in with her crowd. It was his idea to send me in undercover. I’m just glad it went smoothly.”

“Yeah,” He patted her on the back “Me too.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

“Look, if you tell us where you got the drug, we’ll say you cooperated with the authorities, that usually sticks out to a judge and maybe your punishment won’t be as bad.” Morgan was trying once again to get Nicholas Armstrong to talk. 

“And I already told you I don’t know shit!” Nick said defiantly, crossing his arms as if to prove a point.

“Listen man, I’m sure you’ve heard on the news about the recent killing, yeah? Well, one of the victims was your little friend Chris Alexander. And we have reason to believe the killer’s gonna come after you and these people you got Gatsby from. Now we could put you into protective custody, or we can charge you with illegal distribution of drugs and you’ll be fined and sent on your merry way. Straight into the arms of a killer. So how ‘bout you just tell me where we can find these other guys!” Morgan slammed his hands on the table for emphasis at the end of his spiel. Looking pointedly at the man whose eyes had become like saucers. 

“O-okay okay… geez.” He sat up straight and inhaled before continuing. “I don’t know who they are, but every week they open up their house and sell it to use out of there. Actually, there are rumors that they make the stuff down there and that they’re a part of some kind of mob or something, but everyone is too scared of them to try anything.”

“An address, Armstrong. I need an address.”

“Right, right, uh.. It’s 4267 Leavenworth. That’s all I know, I swear.”

“All right, I appreciate your help my man.” And with that, Derek walked out of the room and pulled out his phone. “Hotch, yeah I’m gonna need a SWAT Team at 4267 Leavenworth.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Spencer woke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, (especially if he had a concussion) but there wasn’t much else to do down in his prison, and he needed to keep up his energy, in case he had any opportunities to escape. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head in vain. After a moment it occurred to him that something must have woken him up. He looked around the room, but nothing seemed out of place. But there it was again. The door was being unlocked. Spencer braced himself, not knowing who to hope for. The two maybe sadists or Maria and her family. 

He didn’t have to wait long to find out though, because Maria came strolling in, her father right beside her, looking beyond angry. Spencer tensed as if he were to be struck, but no blow came. The two stopped at Spencer’s feet before the father began speaking.

“We’re leaving.” he said coolly. At this Spencer’s mind raced. Where are they going? Are they going to take him with them or let him go? Or are they going to leave him for dead? Before he could spiral any further, the man spoke again. “Someone’s killin’ the clientele here and the feds have shown up.” 

Spencer’s heart swelled at that. The FBI is here, it’s only a matter of time before they arrest Them and rescue him. “But unfortunately for you…” Spencer’s train of thought was immediately disrupted by the man and hopelessness filled him yet again. “You ain’t gonna be seeing no feds in this lifetime. Maria, if you will.” And then he left the room, leaving Maria and Spencer alone.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~ 

Maria stared down at her captive as her hand went to the gun behind her. He looked terrible. His pretty features hidden underneath blood and grime. His form trembling. He hadn’t uttered a word in the six weeks he had been there. Answering questions with a shake or a nod of his head. He would make the occasional scream of ‘no’ or ‘stop’, like the time yesterday when Tyrone had broken his ankle. Other than that, he’d hum annoyingly or whimper. But nothing else. It was almost like he had gone mute. She knew he could speak. He talked immensely during their class together. Almost none stop. It was almost… endearing in a way. Now he refused to say anything. She almost felt bad for him. He was about to die, beaten and bruised in the basement of a random suburban house with no one to even know he was gone..

She leveled the gun at Spencer’s head and he froze, fear seeping out of every pore. He began to frantically shake his head. She hesitated for a moment, but she quickly recovered her resolve and-

He was mouthing a word at her. What was he trying to say? Then she heard it. The tiniest whisper.

“Please.”

She stopped, dropping her arm and looking at the boy in front of her. He was just a boy. He didn’t deserve to die like this. But her father was waiting for her...

A tear, and a gunshot. 

Maria joined her father upstairs and they prepared to depart Spencer Reid’s personal hell.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

The shot was so painful he slammed his head against the wall. And then he did it again. And again. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He bit through his lip, trying to stay quiet, but a yell still tore through his throat and his leg-

God, his leg. It hurt more than anything he had ever felt before. His vision was tunneling and he was hyperventilating and he couldn’t stop hitting his head.

Against.

The.

Wall.

He couldn’t tell if the sound in his ears was in his head or coming from him.

Then the tears came, silently falling down his face. 

~CRIMINAL MINDS~ 

SWAT cars and black SUVs screeched to a halt just outside of a small suburban house. Agents filing out of their vehicles and putting their vests on. Derek Morgan checked his gun for his ammunition and once he was certain his magazine was full, he began speaking with the SWAT directors.

“It’s a simple raid. Apprehend anyone in the house and secure Gatsby and anything else like it. Then once that is taken care of, we’ll station members undercover to try to bait out the Unsub-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a gun shot was heard from inside the house.

“Shots fired!” Someone shouted and they stormed the house. Right away they apprehended two people, a young woman and an older man, presumably related. After disarming them and carting them away, shouts of ‘clear’ were heard throughout the house. Derek took a few SWAT members down into the basement of the house. He was surprised by what he found. 

He wasn’t surprised by the lab equipment and the vials of Gatsby. No, he was surprised to find a young boy chained to the wall and bleeding out.

He was seated on the floor, with chains suspending his arms. He couldn’t have been over 19 by the look of him. He was bruised and bloody, but the thing that alarmed him the most was that he was banging his head against the wall. Hard.

After a moment, the SWAT members were finished staring. They advanced and that’s when the boy noticed he wasn’t alone anymore.

His eyes were filled with utter terror. More tears peaked out of the corners of his eyes and he tried his best to move away from the strange men and their weapons. Derek noticed his distress worsening.

“Put your guns down and back away from the kid!” Derek yelled. After a moment, the SWAT agents moved back, lowering their weapons. Derek’s gun was already put away. The kid seemed to relax slightly. He tried to pull his knees up to his chest but his right thigh must have been shot, so he just settled for the one knee. He tried to curl up as well as possible as he continued to slam his head against the wall. Silent tears streaming down his face and a pool of blood gathering under his leg.

Morgan didn’t know what to do. But his instincts took over and soon he found himself slowly inching his way closer to the kid.

“Hey, kid. It’s all right, no one is going to hurt you anymore.” Derek said as he crouched a few feet away from the kid. When the kid opened his eyes, they were glazed over in pain and something else Derek didn’t recognize. But he took it as a sign to continue. “My name is Derek Morgan. I work with the FBI. It’s okay now, we’re here to help you.”

He didn’t get any response. The kid just blinked unfocused eyes at him and kept banging his head on the wall, crying. Then Morgan made the mistake of coming closer.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~ 

Spencer’s mind was racing so fast he couldn’t think. When the group of men in black came down with their guns, the logical thing to think was ‘oh the authorities’ right? But no. Spencer started to panic even worse because all he could see were their guns and all he could feel was the agony in his leg. He faintly registered himself hitting his head against the wall, but now that he finally gave in after 6 weeks, he couldn’t stop. It was like everything he tried to hold back during his weeks of captivity were trying to escape now that his body found him in significantly less danger. So he closed his eyes and wished it all to just stop. To go away. 

He registered a voice then, talking to him. 

“No one is going to hurt you anymore” 

He wanted to believe that. He really did but, he didn’t know if he could. He opened his eyes to try and look at the man speaking to him. The first thing his mind was able to register were the three white letters on his bullet-proof vest. FBI. He said something else, but Spencer can’t remember what it was because the next thing to happen was the man coming closer. And then They were coming at him.

“NO! STOP!” He yanked as hard as he could on his cuffs, but like all the times before, they didn’t budge. 

After the roaring in his ears subsided, he managed to make out another sound over his hyperventilating.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, I won’t come any closer. Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

He took a few short breaths before they evened out into slightly deeper breaths.

“That’s it, nice and easy. It’s just you and me now kid, and I’m not going to hurt you.” True to the man’s words, when Spencer opened his eyes, which he never remembered closing to begin with, it was just the one FBI agent and himself.

He took another, shaky breath, before relaxing the muscles in his stomach

“All right, that’s good. You’re doing great, can you stop hitting your head against the wall for me?” The FBI agent asked.

Could he stop? He didn’t really know. He probably could if he really tried. His body was already exhausted enough. He tried, and he was able to slow it down, then he graduated to just pushing his head against the wall after a few minutes, needing to do something to distract himself from the pain that was his everything..

“Good, good job kid. Now, a friend of mine is gonna come in here with some bolt cutters and we’re gonna get you out of here. Is that okay?” The man asked.

“Is that okay?” Spencer echoed back. Eyes widening, he quickly nodded and then slammed his head back against the wall, just stopping himself from continuing the rhythmic banging of earlier.

Spencer saw one of the man’s eyebrows quirk slightly, but the agent said nothing. He spoke into his comms and after a moment, another man in an FBI vest came into the room. 

“All right so, agent Hotchner here is going to get a little close just so he can cut the chains holding you here okay? Then we’ll get you out of here. What’s your name?” The agent asked.

“What’s your name?” Spencer said back. 

He was utterly mortified. He didn’t think about it for long though because agent Hotchner came closer with the bolt cutters in hand. He heard the other agent answer his echoed question with “Derek Morgan” but quickly squeezed his eyes tight and went stiff as a board. A few moments later, his arms fell to his sides. He let out a quiet cry of pain, used to the pain of moving his arms after so long suspended over his head though, he powered through and quickly grabbed onto his leg. 

He shouldn’t have done that because the pain he felt was 10 times worse. He cried out and slumped against the wall again, breathing heavily. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He was so tired. Just so, so tired. 

He watched the two agents move towards him, but he didn’t have the energy anymore to flinch. He watched them talking, he couldn’t tell whether they were talking to him or to each other. The ringing in his ears was back again. 

The last thing he sees is agent Morgan grabbing him and carrying him out of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh omg im so sorry for being gone so long!! some personal stuff happened and then other stuff happened and things just kept happening but now i am back and im so thankful for all of the comments i've gotten! 
> 
> anyway, this chapter feels kind of rushed so please, if there are any mistakes let me know so i can fix them
> 
> thank you for reading!


	4. the tired

Agent Aaron Hotchner thought dumbly, about all the extra paperwork he was going to have to do as he followed Agent Morgan up the stairs and out of the cold prison like room. Derek held the young captive close, and was muttering quiet words of encouragement to him even though the kid looked like he had just checked out of this reality. He just stared blankly. The kid showed the slightest of winces and he exhaled through his nose as a sign of pain, but that was it. It looked like the kid was gone and all that remained was the shell of a person being carted through a dark suburban house and out into the warm Pasadena air. 

When Hotch heard over the comms that there was a kid down in the basement, his blood had run cold. He was quick to get an ambulance en route to their location. Morgan explained the situation quickly to him. There was a kid who seemed to have been held against his will for who knows how long, and he was chained to the wall and bleeding out from a bullet wound. Morgan urged him to get something to cut through his chains, and Hotchner had come barging into a nightmare. 

Lab equipment was strewn everywhere, the smell of chemicals was dizzying and there, at the back of the room, was his colleague squatting down in front of a boy. A boy who was currently bleeding out on the floor. 

“All right so, agent Hotchner here is going to get a little close just so he can cut the chains holding you here okay? Then we’ll get you out of here. What’s your name?” He heard Morgan ask.  
Hotch wielded a pair of bolt cutters and looked to Morgan before nodding.  
“What’s your name?” The phrase was echoed back in a rough voice, thick with disuse. Aaron’s eyes widened slightly and he looked to the kid to see him doing the same. He was quick to let the matter go though and as Morgan responded, he advanced on the chains keeping the boy prisoner. He vaguely registered the kid stiffening, but made quick of his task and after a moment, the boy made a soft cry as his arms were released.   
After that though, the kid had checked out. Now Aaron was running ahead, quickly weaving through police and technicians to get to the EMTs.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Once the EMTs were done loading the kid into the ambulance, Derek hopped in for the ride. After Hotch had freed the kid from his chains, (the shackles were still around his wrists where they cut into his skin) he just checked out of reality. He watched, dumbly as the EMTs rattled off words he didn’t understand. They kept on asking him questions he didn’t know. ‘How long has he been unresponsive?’ ‘What’s his name?’ ‘How old is he?’ ‘What happened.’ 

‘I don’t know.’

He’s never hated a phrase more. 

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Spencer was aware. But he wasn’t. He knew, vaguely, what was going on. The FBI had rescued him and now he was in an ambulance going to a hospital. But he couldn’t quite see the faces of the EMTs working over him. Or here the medical gargin he was sure he’d understand. Or even feel anything else but the pounding in his head, and the fuzzy feeling he felt everywhere else. He was uncomfortable, but not in as much pain as before.. They probably administered a narcotic but Spencer couldn’t comprehend when, or how. He felt apathetic. No, he felt neutral. Almost content but not quite. He was exhausted but couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep just yet. He didn’t know how he felt. But he knew that he hated not knowing.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~ 

Spencer woke up confused and afraid. He was in significantly less pain than before and he was lying in a bed instead of chained to a wall. He couldn’t remember how he got there or where ‘there’ was exactly, and that scared him. He remembered everything, but he could probably chalk his lapses of memory to the concussion he no doubt had. He let his senses guide him then. The dry taste in his mouth, the feeling of the thin bed sheet that encompassed him. The bright white lights that pierced his eyes. The sounds of continuous beeps and whirring. The slightly more bearable soreness that was his entire body. 

He was in a hospital room.

Then he remembered his rescue, the ambulance ride and his subsequent shutdown. Dozens of feelings came rushing to him then. Relief, mortification, dread. Most of all he felt overwhelmed and he hadn’t even spoken to anyone about what had happened to him. He more felt than heard his heart monitor speeding up and, after a moment of almost hyperventilating, a nurse came in to see what was wrong.

“Well, look who's awake?” A young woman with short brown hair entered his room. She wore a polite smile and Spencer felt immediately comforted. He wondered how many times that same smile calmed others patients here. “My name is Alice and I’ll be your main nurse for the duration of your stay. Though, I do have a few questions to ask you. You see, when they brought you in here, you were unresponsive. Then you fell asleep so.. well, they couldn’t ask you some important questions.”

Spencer was listening, honest. He just needed to take stock of his injuries. So as the nurse continued to talk about the FBI and how they really needed to speak with him, (and he was totally processing what she was saying) he was looking over himself. There was a bandage on his right cheekbone, covering a gash from the ring one of Them had worn. Both his wrists were bandaged, one arm was in a sling and he suddenly registered the pain in his shoulders. After weeks of suspension though, the pain was bearable. Further down to his injured ribs. Underneath the hospital gown, Spencer felt heavy bandages wrapped around his torso. Lastly, his ankle was in a boot and actually pointing the right direction. He was relieved that hospital staff had located all of his injuries and treated them without having to have him conscious. He’s pretty sure he would have crawled out of his skin if he had to be awake and aware as they poked and prodded him.

“...-they’ll be right in to see you.” Alice said as she left the room.

Who? 

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

“Gideon is on his way.” Hotch said to Derek as he put his phone away. A nurse had just informed them that their witness was awake and they were all clear to go speak with him. 

“Let’s just hope he knows what happened to him or has any information about the case that could be helpful.” Derek said as they entered the room.

The room was bare, save the young, exhausted looking man sitting in the bed. He looked apprehensive. Like his fight or flight senses weren’t agreeing and he was balancing in the middle. But then his eyes landed on Derek and he relaxed some, recognizing the man who had rescued him. The two agents walked to the foot of the bed, Derek giving a nice smile to the kid.

“Hey pretty boy, how’re you feeling?” Derek thought that was the best way to start their conversation.

The kid opened his mouth as if to respond, but he said nothing. He closed his mouth abruptly and gave a noncommittal shrug. He suddenly appeared extremely interested in the sheets of his bed; left hand going to fidget with the thin material.

“Before we get started,” Aaron began, picking up on the awkward tension in the atmosphere. “Your doctors were hoping to get some questions of their own answered. Do you think you’ll be up to that?” He spoke softly, not using his usual unit chief voice.

The kid shrugged again, looking anywhere but at the two agents.

“Well, first things first, is there anyone that the hospital can call for you? A medical proxy or family member?” 

A dull shake of the head was his only answer. 

“All right, well could you tell us your name?”

The young man opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. 

“Spencer?” another voice broke into their conversation.

The kid’s head whipped towards the door, his eyes going doe like and his mouth falling open in surprise. 

“Gideon?” 

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Denis watched from the sidelines as police cars and officers bustled about, shoving his father and sister into police cars and carting them away to rot. He was beyond angry. He wanted to take out his rage on that genius kid again. The rush he experienced the day prior still lingered slightly in his bones. He had to find where he was. Nothing else was on his mind. After he settles his rage he’ll think about what to do next.

He pulled his car away from the crime scene, punching in the address of the closest hospital into his GPS. He had to stay on the back roads to avoid the police who were most definitely looking for him.

He drove like mad for a few minutes uninterrupted. But then a car pulled out right in front of him. He slammed on his breaks, the car squealing to a stop. He was just about to get out of his car and give this dude a piece of his mind, but the man was already out of his vehicle (which was parked in the middle of the road) and coming towards him with his hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie. 

Denis got out of his car, ready to exchange fists with the man, when he pulled out a gun.

His hands shot up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa man chill out! Listen, let’s just get back in our cars and drive off huh? I ain’t even mad that you were in the middle of the road or nothin’ honest.”

The other man’s hand was shaking with rage. “You killed her.” He said deathly quiet.

“What? I ain’t kill no one” He lied. He had killed before but never any girls before. 

“She overdosed. On the stuff that you were selling. Now it’s your turn to die.” 

He readied the gun, leveling it at Denis’s head.

“Wait wait wait wait wait!” Denis said quickly. “What about the guy who made the shit in the first place huh? I- I know where he is, I’m actually going there myself. Tell ya what, you don’t shoot me, and I’ll tell you where he is.” Denis was pretty proud of himself for coming up with that deal on the spot.

The man seemed to consider his offer before putting his gun back in his pocket and meeting Denis at his car. 

“O-Okay, so, he’s at Redgate, the closest hospital? Yeah we messed him up pretty bad and the feds took him there. I uh, can tell you where it is if ya need.” 

“No.” He pulled his gun out again quickly. “Get in.” He motioned to the car and Denis got into the driver’s seat quickly, the other man getting into the passenger seat.

“I didn’t want to do this.” He said to Denis, whose hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. “But she’s dead. She’s dead now and it’s all your fault. Those kids, who gave it to her in the first place, the dealers who gave it to them. You who gave it to those dealers… And this man, for making it in the first place. It’s only fair.”

The man looked Denis in his wide brown eyes, and shot a bullet right between them.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

“Gideon?” Spencer rasped, eyes filling with tears at the sight of his mentor. Gideon surged forwards concern radiating off of his entire being. Spencer flinched slightly at the sudden movement but silently berated himself as Gideon moved backwards more cautiously. He looked up at the man guiltily. 

Gideon, well versed in the ways of Spencer's internal conflict, was quick to put it to an end. “May I take your hand?” Spencer tuned into the man’s voice; relishing in the soft request, a tone he hadn’t heard in quite some time. He nodded then, and Gideon pulled up a chair beside his bedside and took Spencer’s hand into his own, the firm clutch a sort of anchoring point. He clutched back. He felt less like he would float away and more like he could actually exist on this plane of existence. He felt as the mental block he had been feeling since he awoke, fade away and found his voice for the first time in what felt like months. 

“Hi” He quietly rasped, afraid still, that if he tried to speak any louder, his voice would disappear again. They looked at each other, one searching desperately for answers, and the other relieved to see a familiar face.

Morgan broke into their little world then, he and Hotch standing to the side as the two men reunited. 

“You know this kid?” Morgan asked incredulously. Gideon nodded, looking to Spencer for approval before launching into an explanation.

Once he got the signal he wanted, Gideon began.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I met him at one of my seminars at CalTech last year.” he would have continued but Morgan stopped him there. 

“Wait, this kid is a doctor? He looks 19! He’s way too young to have gone through medical school.” 

“He’s 20, actually. And no, he’s not that kind of doctor. He has multiple P.H.Ds in mathematics, engineering, and chemistry. But that is besides the point. Spencer, what happened?”

Spencer, whose mind was beginning to wander as Gideon fell into what was becoming a familiar conversation, snapped back to attention when he heard his name.

“I- uh… I don’t… know…I-” Spencer cut himself off.

Gideon turned to Hotchner, willing to have this conversation a bit later, “What are his injuries?”  
“He has a broken ankle, two broken ribs, a broken nose, and he tore his right rotator cuff. Other than that he has a knot on the back of his head, a concussion, and lacerations to his face, wrists and legs, along with a bullet wound in his right thigh.” Hotchner reported.

Gideon, pale with worry, turned back to Spencer. 

“How are you feeling?”

“How are you feeling?” Spencer repeated. “Sore.” He was staring at their conjoined hands in awe, not even registering the echolalia. “You’re here.” He breathed, astonished, like he had dreamed of it happening but never thought it would come true.

Gideon smiled then, faintly. “Yes, I’m here. We’re here on a case actually, and it led us to you.”

Spencer, slightly lost in his own world, mumbled more to himself than to anyone in the room, “I didn’t think you’d come…I- I didn’t think I’d get out.” Then he winced in pain, the bright lights mixed with his injuries finally taking their toll on the poor boy. 

Gideon picked up on the boy’s discomfort easily. “All right. I think this is enough excitement for right now, we’ll ask you some questions later. Right now, you should rest.”

“Please, don’t leave.” Spencer said quickly, gripping Gideon’s hand tight.

“I won’t, I’ll be right here.” he settled in his seat as if to prove a point. Then he suddenly remembered something. 

“Hotch, tell that tech girl to use the profile and go through the list of people who were killed in Gatsby related incidents.” Spencer flinched again. “Have here look through close family members and friends.”

Aaron nodded and he and Morgan gave Spencer fleeting glances before heading out of the room.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~ 

After a while, a nurse came into Spencer’s room to redress his wounds, ushering Gideon out. Before Spencer could panic, Gideon spoke up “Don’t worry, I’ll only be out in the hall.” Spencer relaxed a bit at that, and gave a reluctant nod. 

Jason exited the room and found Hotchner and Morgan discussing the case in as seating area just outside Spencer’s room.  
Morgan was the first to register Gideon’s entrance and quickly shot up to his feet. 

“How’s the kid?”

“They’re redressing his injuries right now.” Jason answered tiredly. “I suppose I owe you both a better explanation.”

So Gideon explained how he had met Spencer at CalTech two years prior. He told them how he was interested in becoming a profiler and how Gideon had taken him under his wing, so to speak. He told them that he was supposed to join the academy earlier that year and email him when he got in. And he explained how he never got that email.

“That’s why you’ve been checking your email every spare chance you get?” Hotchner asked even though he already knew that was the case. Gideon nodded.

“Why does he repeat everything we say?” Morgan asked after a lull in the conversation, not familiar with the concept.

Gideon was quick to explain, “That’s echolalia. It’s an involuntary repetition of something he hears. Spencer is on the autism spectrum.” Morgan nodded in understanding. 

“What I don’t get is why he was in that basement.”

Gideon shook his head, “That, I’m not sure of. He’s not involved in anything like this. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“There is one way we can figure it out.” Hotch said. The other two members of the BAU blinked at him. 

“Just ask him. He was there, maybe he’s not in a place to relive what happened but he knows something and he’s the only one who will talk. We’ve already tried the people we apprehended at the house, they’ve lawyered up.” 

Morgan cursed at that. Gideon mulled the thought over for a moment. 

“If it’s the only way to get the information, we need to ask him. But be gentle about it, he’s just now finally able to process what he went through. I don’t want to push him in the wrong direction.”

The agents waited for the nurse to come out of his room, and then went in to question Spencer.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Spencer finally let go of the breath he had been holding ever since the nurse first entered his room. He knew, logically, that it was ridiculous to fear someone who was only there to help, but his irrational thoughts seemed to have taken over his rational ones ever since his captivity began. But knowing something is irrational and thinking rationally are two different things.

Spencer honestly wished he wasn’t thinking at all, because his thoughts raced as he tried to chase his memories away and process them at the same time. On top of that, his head ached, but so did pretty much everything else.

Spencer was about to spiral once again, down into the depths of his mind, when his door opened and three BAU agents entered.

Gideon returned to the spot next to Spencer’s bedside and the other two agents, Hotchner and Morgan, Spencer’s mind supplied, stood at the foot of his bed. Spencer fidgeted with the straps on his sling, the uncertainty of what was to happen making him antsy.

“Spencer,” Gideon began. “I know you’ve just gotten back to safety but.. we do need to ask you some questions.” 

Spencer nodded, he had tried to prepare for this as a tactic to distract himself as the nurse changed his bandages.

“We just want to know what happened for now. Could you start from the beginning?”

Spencer nodded and thought back to moments prior to his kidnapping.

“I was… on my way home, to my dorm room. Oh, uh I go to CalTech.. anyway I was walking and I went through this short cut between Scenic and Jackson when I came across these guys who were obviously doing some kind of drug deal. They saw me and started towards me and… I think something hit me over the head cause I don’t remember, and I always remember I have an eidetic memory. Uh anyway, after that I woke up in the basement and They told me… uh, they said that if I didn’t help them, then I.. would regret it.” He fell silent then. Reliving the moment. Gideon helpfully pulled him out of it with another question. 

“What did they need your help with?”

“Oh, uh… so, one of them knew me from school, Maria, and she knew that I have a doctorate in chemistry. I guess she told Them I was useful because they… they wanted me to create a drug for them.” he rushed out the last sentence and was quick to defend himself.

“I’m sorry! I tried to resist but after the first two days without food it water I gave in, The human body can only go three to four days without water and I was so thirsty, and I needed to keep my strength up because who knew how long i was going to be there, actually it was 6 weeks 4 days and…” Spencer checked the clock “10 hours ago but that’s no excuse, I should have fought harder but I didn’t, and now Gatsby is out there and who knows how many people are dead because of it. Because of me…” The other men could see Spencer begin to spiral once again. 

Gideon, stunned from the knowledge of how long Spencer was held and tortured, didn’t know what to say, but Morgan spoke up.

“Look kid, that wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, not the creation of the drugs, not the deaths that happened because of it, and not your kidnapping either. None of it was your fault.” Derek caught Spencer’s eye for just a moment, but it was enough to get through to him.

“Yeah… well, that’s it really.” He chose not to talk about the times when They would come and ‘teach him what happens when he doesn’t cooperate.’ The memories almost as painful as his injuries. 

“Do you know wh-” Gideon was cut off by a local officer opening the door. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s been another one.” He spoke grimly. Hotch and Morgan stood to follow, leaving Gideon and Spencer alone.

After a moment of silence, Gideon spoke.

“I was worried about you.” He said.

Spencer looked up at that, surprised that Gideon was even able to worry. “I-I’m okay now.” he lied. Gideon gave him a look that said ‘yeah sure’ 

“You will be, eventually. But you’ve got to talk to me about it.” And after a moment.

“All right.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Jason arrived at the crime scene only just after Hotchner and Morgan. The nurse had come in again to finally get some of her questions answered and had asked for him to leave. Jason maneuvered through the CSI techs and crime tape and made his way to the car in the middle of the road and his two team members talking by the passenger side door, looking at what he assumed was the body of their latest victim. 

Morgan looked to him as he approached, “Denis Romano, son of Antonio Romano and brother to Maria Romano. What a coincidence…” 

“This is no coincidence, the Unsub seems to have targeted him just like his other victims. He went out of his way to kill him, and in broad daylight too. He’s escalating.” Hotchner said as technicians closed in on the car, ready to to take the body to the coronors’ office. 

Just then, Hotchners’ phone rang.

“Garcia, tell us you have something.” He said as he put his phone on speaker.

“I don’t just have something, I’m pretty sure I’ve identified the Unsub. Samuel Noriega, 27. His little sister Jamie died just last week of a Gatsby overdose. And get this, she went to the same school as the youngest Nook brother. After that, Samuel totally went off the rails. He lost his job and his apartment. And get this, Jamie’s funeral was the day after Chris Alexander was killed, and Samuel didn’t even show. He’s got a record of aggravated assault and somehow, he’s recently gotten his hands on a firearm. Sending his next of kin’s address now.”

“All right, thanks Garcia.” Hotchner hung up the phone as Morgan was climbing into the now vacant car. 

“All right, so, I’m the Unsub, my goal is to kill anyone and everyone involved with the drug that killed my sister. I kill Denis Romano in his car… and now I’m wondering where he was going. So I pull up the GPS… and-” Morgan stops. On the screen, was directions to the Hospital where Spencer Reid was currently staying.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Red and blue lights flashed as the FBI sanctioned SUV flew down the road. Hotchner was on the phone, making phone call after phone call, trying to get information about what was going on at the hospital and Morgan was cursing at slow civilians while they moved to the side at a snail like pace. 

The agents finally pulled up to the hospital and ran into the building, rushing past ignorant patients and hospital personnel, guns drawn.

They turned the corner onto the hallway that Spencer’s room belonged to, and saw Samuel enter the room, gun already pointed at a frightened Spencer. The team and the other police officers Hotch had called in for back up, all had their guns drawn on Samuel, stopping just short of 10 feet away from the door to the hospital room.. But Samuel only had eyes for Spencer. 

“This… is all your fault!” Samuel screamed at Spencer who was sitting up in his bed, one hand raised in the air. “If you hadn’t created that… that thing my sister would still be here! She wouldn’t have gone to that damn party and she wouldn’t have been pressured into taking Gatsby!” He spat the last word out like venom.

“Samuel Noriega! Drop your weapon!” Morgan shouted. Samuel finally noticed the men blocking his exit. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

This was Spencer’s last chance at survival. If he screwed this up, he could wind up with a bullet in his head instead of his thigh. He conjured up all that he had learned about the BAU and about profiling and criminology and spoke.

“I’m sorry about your sister Samuel. But, would she want you to go around killing people because of her?” His eyes flickered down to a tattoo on his forearm. “Would she want you to risk going back to jail because of her? Her death was an accident. Don’t you think she would want you to peacefully mourn her and not risk everything you’ve worked for, for her?”

Spencer bit his lip, sure that his words would have no effect and that he was about to taste lead when… 

“No… She- she wouldn’t want this..” Tears began to pour down Samuel's face. “She was all I cared about. I- I have nothing anymore…” he raised his gun then, but instead, pointed it at himself. Just then a gun fired. But it wasn’t Samuel’s. Gideon lowered his weapon as soon as he saw Samuel’s gun drop to the ground, Samuel clutching his right shoulder.

“No one else has to die.” Gideon breathed. Police rushed to apprehend Samuel, and Aaron, Derek, and Jason, moved to Spencer’s bed side again. 

“Are you all right?” Gideon asked quickly, looking Spencer over for any fresh injuries he may have missed. Spencer let out a shaky breath but nodded nonetheless.

“That was some serious negotiating kid, can’t wait to see you in the field with us.” Morgan smiled. 

“You;re still planning on joining the Unit right, Spencer?” Gideon asked hesitantly, though willing to accept any answer. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain about anything in my life. You guys saved my life! Joining you would be an honor. Give me some time to get through The Academy. I mean, if you’ll still have me, I’d love to be considered for a position in the future.”

After the whole ordeal with Samuel Noriega was over with, the BAU decided to keep Spencer company for a while and get to know him as the police finished up at the precinct. But eventually they had to go complete the case and head back to Quantico, and Spencer watched contentedly, as the BAU walked out of his room, and out into the green light of the hospital, knowing that soon, he’d be joining them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that knowledge of autism was very limited in like, 2002 but I still want to write it correctly and try not to misinform anyone so I didn't refer to reid as having Aspergers because autism is a spectrum and yeah anyway thank ypu so much for reading and commenting! It means the world to me! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! There is not an established update schedule but I hope to update frequently enough. :)


End file.
